Suicide
by toadstoolcouch
Summary: Teen!Pickles tries to kill himself. Seth finds his suicide note. Incest, slash, graphic


Disclaimer: All characters and related stuff belongs to the creators of Metalocalypse and everyone else at the top. I own nothing, and make no kind of profit from this. Just a silly fanfic, no harm intended.

Hey Seth. I'm not sure what to say here. This will be the last time I never say anything to you. Well, writing counts as saying, right? Remember what you told me earlier? how I was a dirty faggot and that I deserved to be treated this way? Remember that? Well i guess you're right. You fucked me, no RAPED me on my birthday. My birthday, Seth. I had a lot of thoughts running through my head as I sat in the shower, trying to wash you off me, and one of them was, how long have you been holding back? Suddenly everything made sense to me. Sometimes you'd touch me when we were younger and you'd love to try to drown me in the river just so you could pull me out and give me mouth to mouth. I guess I never thought it was anything more than just you being a bully and being fucking psycho.

In a sick kind of way I was relieved. Ya, like I finally understood you. Well, as much as I can for only being 14. It's like, you're in love with me but you hate that because it's so wrong. So you're evil to me because you're punishing yourself about it. Actually, no, that can't be right, because that would mean you actually love me. Maybe you do, like deep down inside, but you forget that whenever you hurt me and molest me and make me repeat back to you all those fucked up things you say so I guess I don't really understand you, but whatever. I'd bet money you don't either.

In case you haven't figured it out, "bro," this is a suicide note. And ya, I planned this out so that I'd be dead by the time you finally got home from work or drinking or whatthefuckever. I am a little sad that I can't see you one more time before I die, Seth. Not that you care. Since I'm never gonna see you again, I can be honest with you. I love you, and I hate you. I care about you, you know. I know Dad hits you. At night, I can hear you guys fight and sometimes it gets so bad I have to play my Walkman really loud and sometimes I can't help but cry because I wish I could help you. And then of course I'd be scared because I know you'd come upstairs and beat me up to make yourself stop hurting so much. I'm fucking stupid to give two shits about you, but you are my brother. We grew up together. We do stuff together, not just, you know. Shit, we've had good times. If it weren't for Marcus I'd even say that you're my only friend, Seth. When I think of the times you've been nice to me I can't help but get all teary eyed.

Ok, that's enough kissing your ass. There's a lot I hate about you. Although, I'm trying to forgive you for everything, Seth, because I'm never going to see you again. I can totally see myself forgiving you just before I die. Look at me, all fucking nostalgic and shit. But whatever, I'm still alive so I'm gonna say it. I hate you! I fucking hate you so much. Sometimes I think about killing you. Not like I could though. And you know what's sick? If I did, I would end up missing you way too much. I'd still kill myself anyway, so what's the point.

You did this to me, Seth. You killed me, not me. You know, I always looked up to you. You've always been the big brother, you're almost out of school, you have a job, you got your license, blah blah blah blah blah blah. I thought you were cool. If I ever had problems at school I'd tell you because you'd actually listen and then you'd go do something about it. I never understood why you'd bother beating up the kids that beat me up, and then you'd beat me up at home. What, you just like hurting people every chance you get?

Well, I still thought you were cool, and I'd tell people you were my brother and watch them start to act weird around me, like they were scared or something.

Ya, I'm talking too much, but i guess that's what Oxycotin does to you. I've already taken a few and I started drinking just now, but when I'm done with this I'm going out to the woods out back and I'll finish my bottle of scotch and then eat up all my pills. I got a whole bunch of stuff guaranteed to kill me.

Don't show this to anyone, ok? Especially not Mom and Dad. I don't want them to know about us. I thought about telling them but what would happen? They'd laugh at me and say I'm always lying why should I believe you, or Dad would fucking kill you and then I'd hate myself and wanna kill myself anyway because I miss you but I hate myself for it, just like when you fuck me or put your finger in my or when you jack me off that's what I most want to be dead because it feels so good even when you hurt me and I never want it to stop but that's so fucking wrong! You're my brother and you're molesting me, that's fucking sick! I'm afraid to masturbate anymore because I always end up thinking about you God I fucking hate you!! You sick piece of shit you fucking rapist pedophile! You call me a slut and taunt me and pull my dick when I get hard in front of you and that only makes me harder and I wish you would fuck me and then fucking kill me and then chop me up so no one will ever see my body again. God I feel kinda sick but I'm not done I have so much to say I'll never get chance to say it all of it I want to. You should be the one to is kill me. I want you here. I hate myself I'm sick I hate you and you hate me too but you still don't hate me like I do. I feel weird around you and nobody else can be so close to me you think I love Marcus but he doesn't know shit about me only you know. You're the Devil, Seth but it's ok because I'm going to hell really soon and I'll see you there and then it'll be ok to be victim you are the Devil! love is not exist in Hell only hate and I know hate that's why I wish you could come here over right now and fuck me and hate me and then fucking pull the goddamn trigger when I come just don't forget burn my body no one can look at me! I'll jerk off in the woods and I'll think it's you and it's ok because this time I will get to die I'm not a bad person for yanking it to thinking about my brother if I'm already dying. God already hates me because he gave me SATAN for a brother he wants me to do it FUCK YOU GOD ok I have to go I'm so tired my body's by the big tree i love you brother I'll see you in Hell

ps don't tell Dad!

Seth was already tramping around the forest with a flashlight by the time he finished the letter, and he read it again, more carefully this time, all the while his heart was slamming and the cold wind bit at his bones

"I'm at the fucking tree!" he screamed for the third time. He thought at first that Pickles was just trying to prank him, and he was ready to rend him limb from limb for it. But it became clear soon enough that the kid was serious. He had ran out of the house, too terrified even to think. His parents called after him but he tuned them out, the only time he'd dare ignore his father so blatantly. This wasn't the first time his little brother had OD'ed, but he'd gotten better in a few days with minimal nursing. Seth's desperate hope that Pickles was still alive, no matter how sick, was the only thing he could focus on as he fought through the biting wind and the darkness of the thick forest with his cheap flashlight that was low on batteries.

He screamed his brother's name with a hoarse voice. He had to compete with the wind. As the minutes went by and there was still no sign of him (he'd already checked his Pickles' room) he got hysterical, screeching his brother's real name and tearing through the woods in circles around that tree.

That tree. Pickles' reference to it in the note would have been meaningless to anyone else, but Seth knew exactly what he meant and that was the gnarled oak about half mile from the house where he gave Pickles his first cigarette, and where he had carved S+D into the bark.

There was nothing by that tree, though, and when his flashlight gave out he screamed every curse he knew and beat the tree with it until he collapsed on the roots, sobbing. "Dillon," he whined, rubbing his brow against the tree, even though he was cutting himself against the bark. "Dillon, please, please, please..." Any hopes that he was still alive were quickly dying, and he felt suffocated by a hideous emptiness. He kept thinking about raiding Pickles' room to see if there were any of those pills left...

With fumbling fingers he lit up a Camel and took a halting drag, with his tears streaked across his face from the wind. It was very cold, and late. He hadn't brought a jacket so he was shaking with cold. For a moment he thought he should just stay there and smoke and let the cold finish him off. What was there to go home to now? An abusive father, a clueless mother, a few forty year old drunks who liked to call him a friend, just so they didn't have to drink alone?

The wind blew out his cigarette and he struck another match. From the corner of his eye he could see something illuminated by the flame. Almost dropping the match, he grabbed the pill bottle that was almost hidden by leaves. He had to strike another match to see it. It still had quite a few pills left, and the label read codeine.

"Jesus," he breathed, and he used the match for another cigarette and stumbled to his feet. He went right back to screaming Pickles' name, and lit match after match for light as he scrambled around the tree.

So much smoking and yelling left him dizzy and he tripped over what he thought was a root, but when he put his hand on it, he found it was a leg.

"Shit!" he shrieked, falling over himself with fear. For a few seconds he knelt in the leaves, staring at the body that was only just barely visible in the weak moonlight.

"Dillon?" he whispered, and then he yelled it. "Holy fuck!" he hissed, venturing towards the sill shape. he was shaking uncontrollably, and felt nauseous with fear, but he grabbed the body by the shoulders and shook it. "Dillon!" he bellowed, and when his cigarette fell out of his mouth and onto his brother's face, he quickly wiped it off and said, "Sahrry!," as if afraid to burn him. "Pickles," he whispered, and he slapped the boy's face. "Hey, douche bag, wake up, wake up, fucker!" His voice was quiet and high pitched as he whined through fresh tears. He'd never been this scared. "O my fucking Gahd. DILLON!" he screamed, shaking Pickles' body hard, and then he smashed his head into his neck and rocked back and forth, running his hand through the other's thick red hair. He couldn't feel a heartbeat or breathing. "Come on, come on!" he cried. "Wake up, you're naht dead, you're naht fucking dead!" His brother's skin was so cold.

Trembling, he wrapped his hands around Pickles' body and they met in front of them. He forced out, "Our Father who art in Heaven hallowed be thy name they kingdom come thy will be done, on Earth as it..." He was surprised he even knew the words, being so unused to actually saying them. In church he always used to mouth them to make it look like he was saying them. "Fucking Hell, Gahd, please! Let him be alive, please, Jesus fucking Christ in Gahdamn Heaven please let him be alive!" He broke down and wept into Pickles' hair, with his hand still together in prayer. "Fuck!" he yelled. "Don't do this to me, Gahd, don't you fucking do this shit to me!"

Howling gibberish, he lowered Pickles' head so he could see his face. His tears marked the bruised cheeks and made him think back to the letter. Everything in it was a shock, even though he'd always known, deep down, that it was true. Seeing how his brother's handwriting and sentences and fallen into a barely legible scrawl from the influence of all those drugs was enough to break his heart. He pulled out the crumpled pages and found the part that called him the Devil just to press them against his head and moan, "O, Jesus, I'm so sahrry, Dillon, O my Gahd, O my Gahd, it's true! I'm going to hell." He squeezed the note into his jeans pocket. "I'm already in Hell. O my baby, Jesus fuck!"

Then he pressed his had against Pickles' neck and felt a pulse. Roaring to life he pressed the artery to confirm that yes, there was a pulse, however faint, and lay him in the leaves to attempt CPR.

"Come on, come on!" After a few savage thrusts and breaths into the boy's mouth the redhead woke up sputtering and drooling. "Dillon!" he shrieked, wiping his hair out of his face.

Pickles stared at him with unseeing eyes, his mouth agape and he lolled his head back.

"No, no! Come on, you're ok, you're ok, come, Pickles!"

Pickles mumbled a bunch of gibberish and was able to mutter, "Fucking pills didn't work."

Laughing hysterically, Seth pressed his brother hard into his chest. "O Jesus, Gahd, thank you thank you thank you!" Remembering his brother still needed to breathe, he pushed him back and kissed his brow. "You little shit..." he whispered. Pickles clutched Seth's shirt and sobbed, "No, no, they didn't work, fucking shit!"

"You're naht gonna die, bro," Seth breathed, hugging him hard. "O thank you Gahd!"

"I wanted to die, dammit," Pickles cried, hugging Seth back. "I can't take this shit anymore! Please!"

"Dillon, you fucking monster," Seth said. "I love you, I can't lose you!" He kissed his mouth. "Are you ok? You need to to to the hospital?"

"No, I'm fine," Pickles breathed through tears. "I feel like shit..."

Let's go tot he hospital, you douche."

"No, I should known that shit wouldn't work..."

"You fucker, you take so many crazy drugs anyway," Seth laughed.

"I just need to sleep for a few days," Pickles mumbled.

"You'll sleep with me, I'll take care of ya." He held Pickles tight and cried hard into his hair. "My baby. I'm sahrry Dillon, Jesus I thought...I thought I lost you."

"What do you care?" Pickles said, his teeth chattering from the cold.

"If I weren't scared of killing you I'd beat you to bloody pulp right now," Seth snarled, but he still held him tight. "Of course I fucking care about you, you piece of shit." He helped his brother to his feet and they started off for home, with Pickles leaning heavily into Seth's side.

Seth wanted to say a lot, but he kept quiet and slowly walked Pickles all the way to his room.

"I wanna sleep in my room," Pickles drawled, but he flumped on Seth's bed gratefully.

"You're staying with me until you're better, douche bag," Seth said sternly, and he helped Pickles out of his clothes.

Panicking, he pleaded, "Please, Seth, don't hurt me, please, not now..."

'Shhh, I won't." He quickly undressed and got them both situated beneath the covers. He brought his brother close in his arms and rubbed his face against the other's. "I'm naht gonna hurt ya, not today, come on relax." He kissed him on the neck and groped the other's chest. "Sleep in my arms, baby."

But Pickles was still crying and struggling against him as much as his feeble arms could. "No, you're gonna hurt me, you always do!" He managed to punch his brother in the face in the midst of his struggling, and he sobbed frantically. He mumbled more desperate, incoherent words.

Tears stung the back of Seth's eyes as he fought to control his brother. "I won't hurt you, you fucking asshole!" he whined. "Dillon! Hold still, come on."

"No! Lemme go!" Pickles yelled. He turned his tear stained face to his brother. "This is why I wanted to kill myself! Lemme go, please! I hate you, I hate you!"

"You don't mean that, douche bag, come on," Seth said, tears flowing. His hands were tight and crunching on his brother's arms, and he was overcome with the urge to beat him until he couldn't move. Finally he got on top of him and had his arms pinned at his sides. Panting, he stared down at the redhead, who glowered back. "Hold still, don't make me hurt you," he hissed, and he watched his brother's face break down from his angry stare into a look of helplessness. His body sagged, and it was obvious that he was through fighting.

He'd seen his brother like this on countless occasions: helpless, at his mercy. Surrendering. It always thrilled him, but it was different now. He felt like the spotlight was turned on him, and he was ashamed. The boy that was cowering beneath his larger, older body was the same one that he had cradled in the cold wind only a few minutes before. When he pushes his hand across Pickles' face, the boy cringed. "Dillon," he breathed, grabbing him up into his arms. The younger boy leaned against him and wrapped his arms around the larger, trembling body. Both crying, both clutching the other hard, but neither said anything more. Kissing his brother on the top of the head, Seth looked out the window and whispered, "So even the Devil's prayers are answered, eh, Gahd?"


End file.
